Unfinished
by Shannanigans
Summary: Life after the (unfinished) trials is challenging. Sam's not sure he's up for it. An attempt at posting an unfinished story, which makes me very nervous! Wow, I just typed "unfinished" a lot! Lol.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi guys, as per usual this was written quickly. It feels a bit choppy and could use some proof-reading. Also, I have ZERO medical knowledge. It's just me, Google, and , so please forgive mistakes. Please review and let me know what you think and where you think I should go with this. I have an idea, but I'm trying something outside of my comfort zone – posting a story before it's been completed. The last time I tried this, I ended up deleting the whole thing. We'll see, I guess! Thanks in advance. ~Shannon **

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Things were… different now. Life moves at a slower pace, just like Sam. The best the doctors could come up with was, "non-specific arthritis" along with Lupus. They didn't know if there was an actual "earthly" diagnosis for these symptoms (which appeared after he didn't complete the trials). They still live in the Men of Letters bat cave. Sam doesn't get out much since he can't easily climb the stairs. Dean does the grocery shopping and any other errands they needed. Sam was prescribed boatloads of meds for his "conditions". He first attempted to refuse the pills, but eventually the pain won and he gave in. So, Sam slept a lot, leaving Dean to his own devices. He became quite a chef, creating dinners and baking pies. Sam knew Dean missed the action of hunting, but as hard as he tried, Dean refused to leave him. Dean had made it clear in that church, in the middle of nowhere, that he would continue to put Sam first – above all. When it came time for doctor's appointments and wanting Sam to get some air (and vitamin D), Dean helped Sam scoot up the stairs on his bottom. It took a while, and by the top, both were exhausted. They took a short break before getting into the car.

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Dean hated valet parking, but he didn't want to leave his brother at the hospital entrance alone. Handing the keys to the pimply-faced dude took some doing, but he practically threw the keys at the guy when he saw Sam _willingly _sit in a wheelchair. The entire ride through the halls to Dr. Hruby's office saw Sam breathing heavily and gripping at the right side of his chest.

Dr. Hruby was young and pretty, younger than both Dean and Sam. She smiled warmly when entering the exam room. "Guys, how's it going?"

Dean had learned the hard lesson a while back that Sam did better when in charge of his own care. Of course, he stepped in when Sammy was less than forthcoming. He simply smiled, giving Sam a chance.

Clearing his throat, Sam replied, "Sorta having a rough go of it lately doc. My chest… it hurts. Dean wanted to call an ambulance immediately, but I told him I could handle it until we came to see you.

Dr. Hruby asked Sam a few questions and gave him a quick exam. "Sam, I think we're looking at a case of pleurisy, but I need to do some tests to make sure."

Dean couldn't help himself, "pleurisy? Is it serious?"

The doctor looked at Dean, knowing that his big-brother routine wasn't an act. He genuinely cared for Sam. "Generally, no, but I want to get a jump on this. Sam, I'm going to take some blood and possibly get a chest scan."

Sam adjusted his position on the exam table, trying to get more comfortable. He let out an unexpected cough which led to him gasping for breath. Just as Dean and the doctor got to his side, he slumped down and they gently laid him down on the table.

"Doc? What the hell?" Dean yelled.

Dr. Hruby started checking Sam's vitals. "Well Dean, it's a good thing my office is in the hospital. He's breathing okay, so I'm going to get Sam transported to his scan ASAP. I think he passed out from the pain, but I should have answers for you fairly soon." She hurried out of the office to call for help, leaving Dean standing over his little brother. He grasped Sam's hand and held it tightly. Sammy was out for the count.

Within minutes, a man and a woman with a gurney came and got Sam loaded up. Dean asked to go with, but already knew the answer. He was herded to the waiting room.

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After yet another cup of bad hospital coffee, Dean was both caffeinated and worried sick. Dr. Hruby came around the corner, he immediately jumped up to meet her.

"Well?" he said nervously.

"Well, Dean, it's as I suspected. Sam has pleurisy, a swelling of the thin layers of tissue covering the lungs and the chest wall. He came to during the scan. I'm going to send you home with some painkillers and start him on an aspirin regimen. He should improve within a few days. I do want you to bring him in, though, if he has more bouts of losing consciousness. I've already given him some intravenous pain meds and would like for you two to stay in the ER for a bit, just until I feel more comfortable sending him home. I'd be willing to bet that he hasn't had a decent night's sleep since this began."

Dean thought to himself, _you have no idea._

He followed her from the waiting room to an ER stall, where Sam lay asleep. After thanking Dr. Hruby, Dean sat beside Sam and grabbed his hand again.

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Sam came-to slowly, the feeling of drugs swimming through his veins. Opening his eyes, he saw that he was in a curtained-off stall, in what he guessed, was an ER. Dean was beside him, looking out the window.

As soon as he sensed he was with him, Dean stood over Sam to get into his eye-line. "Hey, little brother. How ya feeling?"

Sam ran his tongue over dry lips, "mmm'okay. Jus' tired. What happ'nd?"

As he pushed the button to raise Sam's bed, he simultaneously grabbed a plastic cup with a straw and held it to Sam's mouth, helping him drink. "You passed out, Sammy. Scared me, a bit. Doc says you're gonna be fine. You just need some rest and meds. Somethin' called plurality?"

Sam smiled tiredly, knowing his brother was trying to lighten the mood. "I think you mean pleurisy, De'. Can we go home now?"

"As soon as the doc gives the okay and you can stay awake long enough to get into the car, we can head out. I'll go let her know you're up." Dean opened the curtain and walked out.

Having a rare moment alone, Sam allowed himself to feel a bit sorry for himself. A tear sprang to his eye, and he, once again, thought about how he wished he had cured Crowley when he had the chance. This…life… was so hard. Barely being able to move and needing so much help from Dean was hard on his ego. He knew his brother would take care of him until his dying day… whenever that may be. Just for a minute, he thought about "letting go" and giving in. He worried Dean would follow soon after, which is why he rarely entertained the idea. But in this ER, in this moment, he let himself yearn for that release.


	2. Chapter 2

After his bout in the hospital, Sam has been sleeping a lot, which isn't surprising considering the bucket-loads of meds he's on. Sometimes Dean can't even get Sam to make sense, much less have a conversation with him. He missed him. For a split second he thought about giving Sam a break from the medicine, but he knew that he could never cause his brother that kind of pain.

Sam relished the way time passed while on these strong painkillers. He felt good, and when he was in danger of thinking too much, it was time for the next dose. _Keep 'em coming. _He really felt as though he needed this break from reality. The reality that his body is broken, his mind is heading in the same direction and he is dragging his brother down with him. Best to not think on it right now.

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His little brother needed to eat. _Goddammit, it had been days_. He entered Sam's dark room, quickly turned on the light and forced his brother to a seated position.

"Wha'? Dean?! What the hell?!" Sam slurred.

"Time to eat buddy. You're getting too skinny under those pajamas. C'mon Sammy, open up." He pushed a spoonful of applesauce towards Sam's mouth.

Sam tried to fend Dean off, with little success. "Dude, lemme alone. Iss time for more medicine, isnnit?"

"Jesus Christ, Sam! No it isn't time for more medicine. You're not due for another two hours. You need to freakin' eat, man. No…, you are GOING to eat. Now, open the eff up."

Without a moment to catch his breath, Sam was suddenly faced with a mouthful of applesauce. Some of it dripped out the side of his mouth. "Yur… yur not the bossame, jerk." The puppy dog eyes were out in full force now.

"You know what? You're right, Sammy. I'm sorry." At this, Sam's mouth hung open in surprise.

"Ha! Gotcha!" more applesauce filled his mouth.

Sam finished the applesauce and a few bites of a sandwich without a word. Dean noted how "_checked out"_ he seemed. He did seem out of it, but after a few bites of the sandwich, a couple of crumbs went down the wrong pipe.

The agony was overwhelming. His whole body hurt and he couldn't catch his breath.

Strong hands rubbed his back, occasionally tapping gently. "S'okay Sammy. You're okay. Try to take a breath. C'mon now. Breathe with me. In… out….

He didn't notice that Dean had left until a moment later when there were two pills and a glass of water in front of him. "C'mon buddy, you need these."

Without argument, Sam took the pills then flopped back into the cushion of pillows. "Th…thanks Dean. You take carrame, even when I don' deserve it."

"You always deserve it, Sammy. Go to sleep, okay? I'll be back in a few hours with a little food and your meds."

Sam was almost out again when Dean heard, "takes carrame."

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Sam awoke to the persistent call of his bladder. "S'great", he sighed. He pulled himself up on shaky arms and turned on his bedside lamp. "Can do thiss." Rubbing at his chest, he carefully stood and made his way to his bedroom door. Clearing his throat, he called, "Dean?" He knew his brother would raise hell if he were out of bed for no reason, he thought he could explain _"the call of nature, and all."_

Dean didn't respond, Sam assumed that he was on a supply run or something. He made his way down the topsy turvey hallway. The walls wouldn't stay still and he was getting pretty sick of it. He wondered, for a moment, if this was a Men of Letters trick. Once inside the bathroom, he took care of business and headed towards the sinks. His chest ached and his legs weren't working properly. Everything hurt. He chanced a glance at the mirror and looked at his scary reflection. Greasy hair, dark circles under the eyes, his face was a bit thinner and he noticed sores forming on his lips. "Ugh" was his simple response to what he saw. He noticed out of the corner of his eye, a pill bottle. Bringing it up close to his blurry eyes, he noted that it was his pain medicine. "Yeah… m'in pain." He poured out two tablets then swallowed them with water from the sink, cupped in his hands. The topsy turvey hall was back as he made his way to his bedroom. "I hate you," he gulped as his stomach began churning. Finally his bed, his salvation, was in view. Climbing under the covers, Sam fell asleep immediately.

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Dean carried the bags of soup, crackers and more applesauce down the staircase. Of course, he didn't forget the beer either. After he put everything away in the kitchen he came up to check on Sam. He noted that he was fast asleep with his bedside light on. He decided to leave it on, maybe Sammy would feel like reading or watching a movie or something later.

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He was under water. Sam was certain he was drowning. Hot, disgusting liquid filled his mouth as he reached out for the boat in his dream. Choking on the water, he called out for Dean.

It was time for Dean to head to bed, himself. He would just check on Sam and make sure he was good. Peeking his head into his brother's room, he heard a terrible gagging sound. "Shit!" he yelled running for the bed. Sam was choking on his own vomit and he was turning all sorts of scary colors. "Sammy!" Dean yelled as he reached his brother and turned him on his side. He tried to clear his mouth of regurgitated applesauce and sandwich, all the while patting Sam on the back.

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**It's weird. I'm not really sure where this is headed. I have a few ideas, but it is taking me a while to get there. Please feel free to help me, with either grammatical advice, story advice or any advice, really. (How to lose 10 pounds? Sure!)**


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